That's When We Uncover [Jensen Ackles + Misha Collins | Cockles | mxm]

Chapter Two

I burst into the kitchen, slack-jawed, heart racing and mind whirling.

Startled, Misha looks up from where he's been drizzling honey onto two bowls of muesli and strawberry yogurt. Eyes a lovely shade of cornflower blue, dark hair adorably mussed, skin summer golden...

"Hey," he smiles, "I was just about to call you down for lunch. What's wrong?"

I feel as though I'm about to explode if I don't lunge at Misha and kiss the fucking shit out of him right now and then fuck him against every surface in this mansion, that's what's wrong.

I've been trying to keep my hands off him. Truly, I have.

I've been drowning myself in paperwork for hours, but it's become downright impossible to keep my baser urges at bay; I can't get anything done knowing that he's standing down here with that delicious stubble and that sexy, tousled hair and those eyes that are quite probably the essence of human life. I'm not used to going without him for long, because back at the studio all it takes is some subtle eye -plotting and we end up entwined and gasping in one of our trailers or a bathroom or soundstage four, every time. That's what I need right now, to be held in an angel's arms again. I need to feel him again, this man whose body I've worshipped inch by inch, this man I'm addicted to. 

I have to have him.

"Jensen," Mish warns as I attack him. Grabbing him by the waist, I close the space between us and devour his lips in a heated kiss, stifling any further protest with shaking hands that grip him all over, grabbing and releasing his skin, his clothing, any part of him that I can reach. Misha moans in surprise, the sound making me stupid with desire.

Lunch lies forgotten on the table as our tongues duel in a fierce kiss, lips and teeth clashing, fine tremors wracking our bodies as our clothes are ripped off like wet paper.

I drown in the heat, the sound of our laboured breathing and muffled gasps, the clinking of belt buckles and zippers coming undone, the fiery melody of our hearts beating in passionate synchrony. The symphony of us.

Gasping for breath, I grab Misha's hands and pin them roughly against the fridge above his head. The picture he makes shoved up against the stainless steel, panting and wide-eyed in his briefs as I grind against him, dissolves any last shred of self-control I might have hoped to posses.

"Need you right," I suck on his bottom lip, nipping it eagerly, "the fuck-"

"Jensen-"

"-now, Mish." I groan as Misha's lips fasten onto mine again with incredible ferocity, the suction almost painful in its intensity. Swiftly, I hook my fingers in the orange material of his underwear and yank them down to pool at his ankles. We chuckle against each other's lips as Misha struggles to kick them off, and then my boxers are on the floor on top of his.

I have no idea how we make it to my bedroom, but Misha's body hurtling onto the white sheets and landing in a beautifully naked heap makes me pause to draw in a sharp breath.

He's the most gorgeous man ever to walk the face of this earth, of this I'm sure.

Grinning, I crawl on top of him, relishing the feel of so much hot, smooth skin, bared just for me, hearing the bed creak slightly as I continue my prowling advance. I can't help sneaking a taste, so I bite down on Misha's shoulder, making him cry out in that voice of his that should be illegal.

I want to lick the stubble on his cheeks and rub my face against it for days on end, which is how I know that Misha's officially driven me completely freaking mad.